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About Me

All too often we forget about the presence of magic in our lives, making our every day heavier than it needs to be. So as much for you as for myself, this blog is meant to remind us that magic, in all shapes and sizes, is very much alive--and that sometimes all we have to do is just tweak our vision a bit to recognize it.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Who are the dancers among us, the spirits that find music on
a busy bus or a crowded train, in an empty room or a boarding plane? Who are
the free of self-conscious ones, the dare to dream ones, the gaze and
make-a-wishers? Are they the squares who do not fit, or the circles that squish?
Do they try, or let life try them, instead? And as they live, as they dance,
ohhh, where do they dwell? Inside or out? Right side or wrong? Upside or down? In
sun or shade? In heat or cold? Or are the dancers among us free enough for the
music to find them…anywhere?

Do they listen? To the sacred voice that sings of their
soul? Do they quiet the ugly and invite the beauty? Or do they sing when ugly arrives,
letting beauty shine that darkness back into his lonely corner of dread?

Naturally.

Is it born?

Is it bred?

Is it learned or shared?

It is you.

At your core.

You just forgot.

Temporarily.

* * *

So together this week, let’s remember—remember the spirits of
your song, the music of your soul, the cadence of your one wild life that is
necessary and vital for the whole. Remember you are a star. Not one made
of stone but made of spirit, of joy, of love. And resonating with every good
thing that has ever been.

Together, let’s remember—you are that dancer among
us. You can hear your music wherever you are. You are courageous. You are
magical. You are beautiful. You are who you are and there is no one else in the
universe that knows how to dance to your song.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

The cottage sat nestled in the thick of the woods, her walls
part forest, her rooms an open heart. Not everyone knew what a special place
she was, not everyone had ears to sense her subtle love. But the meadowlarks
and the cedars, they did. And the dancing creek, it did, too. So they loved
that little cottage as one of their own, dusting her open heart with happy
every day of the week.

Then one day, a couple came. They lived nearby and had heard
about the cottage, and because they knew love, they too, could hear. The wife
touched her hands to her mouth, her eyes sparkling when she saw it, and the
husband, he put his love-filled hand on his dear wife’s shoulder, his smile
lighting up the crisp autumn air.

“She needs us. I can tell.”

The wife nodded. “But how? What is
she meant for?”

“She will tell us. When it’s time,
we will know.”

The wife nodded a second time, her
husband’s smile also her own.

Now the husband, he worked with the homeless and the wife,
she used to be a nun. The two were a particularly caring sort, their hearts
happiest when they were giving and loving. And not just sharing those gifts
with one another, but with everyone around them.

So it didn’t surprise either one of them when they dreamt
the same dream, of fixing up the cottage for weekly vacations for the homeless.

“Yes,” said the husband, it’s what
she is meant to be.

“Indeed,” said the wife, "our hearts
tell us so."

So they got to work, not knowing where the money would come
from, but spending it just the same, for they knew they had to listen to their
hearts, that their hearts would never steer them wrong. They hammered and
nailed, they sanded and polished, they painted and sewed and before they knew
it, the day had arrived. Their first guest was due to arrive in just an hour.

“Darling?” called the husband to
his wife. “Can you lend me a hand when you are finished there? I can’t seem to
figure out this bubble in the floor.”

“I’ll be right there,” she called
from the kitchen, the cupboards still needing some care.

But when she came around the corner, she saw a most curious
sight.

“It was buried under the floor
boards,” he said to his wife.

The two stared with wide-eyed
wonder.

“It’s from her, this precious
cottage, to thank us for giving her part of her life’s work.”

“To thank us for listening to her
heart, as well our own.”

And when they counted it, they found that it matched the
money they had spent on the cottage, within cents. Everything wasn’t just alright in the world. Everything was
beautiful.

And they believed with greater
conviction, in the magic of the heart.

* * *

How will you honor your heart this week? With the holiday
rush will you take time for yourSelf to just breathe and Be, to listen to the
gentle lurings of your heart? For when we do, our heart’s magic doesn’t just
affect us, it affects all those around us…. I promise. Mrs. Urness told me so:)